Faithfully Devoted: Rage Ryders Templeton

by Liberty Parker

  I hear a scuffle outside, but I don’t try to see what’s happening, instead I find the deepest and darkest corner I can make myself invisible in and hide like the coward I am.

  Seventeen

  Justice

  When we pull up to the compound I immediately know something isn’t right. Brothers are running around outside, fights have broken out and I become frantic knowing that I left Lizzie here while all hell has broken loose. My fighting instincts kick in and I slam my kickstand down right here inside of the gate and rush the grounds. I throw my helmet on the ground, not even caring if I crack it beyond repair.

  I rush to help Dust as he’s fighting off three men. He’s holding his own, but I mean come on, three against one is a little spineless on their end. I notice one asshole pull a knife and run after him. The other two are keeping his attention while the other one comes in for the kill. They’ve got the whole conquer and divide thing down, but I’m fixing to put an end to that scenario.

  I grab him by the back of his head and slam him forward. He loses his footing and falls head first onto the ground. I jump on his back and push his face into the unforgiving dirt. His body jerks since he’s not able to get any oxygen in his lungs. I lift my face up and notice my brothers holding their own. His body stops struggling and I jump up and off of him when I hear my named screamed out in fear. I’d know that voice anywhere, I start to follow it until I make it to the back of the building.

  I can hear the whiz of bullets as they fly around the air. A few fly pasts me, and I feel the wind from the speed of the bullets as they leave the chamber of the guns. I duck and weave, and somehow, I miraculously escape getting hit. As I make my way around the building I see legs sticking out of the basement crawl space and realize I know those legs. They belong to my woman!

  And there’s not only one, but two fucking boys, who have the gall to place their hands on my property. They are dead men walking! No one puts their hands on my woman and lives to tell about it…no one! Seeing nothing but them, I run as fast as my legs will let me and tackle the one whose hands are around her ankles.

  “I’d suggest you get your motherfuckin’ paws off my woman!” I roar, letting my anger flow through my words. I take my left hand and shove her through the opening before turning and depositing my concentration back on the thugs. I am looking forward to putting a beat down on these thugs. “I’ll gladly give you a head start if you’re too scared to face me now.” I express this, because one of them has his eyes darting around looking for an escape route, and the other one looks like it’s taking all of his mental focus not to piss his pants.

  I would laugh, but they had their meaty paws where they didn’t belong. That’s not acceptable in any way, but in my world, it’s a sentence for death. “Aww, you gonna play with both of ‘em? I’m left unsatisfied. Let me give you a helping hand,” Jackson casually strolls up next to us saying.

  “Fine, but I get that one,” I disclose, pointing to the punk who was holding my woman back from escaping the danger that he was part of placing her in. My body begins to quiver, my anger spiking, and my adrenaline is pumping through my veins.

  Ignoring the pathetic whimpers that leave my intended victim’s mouth, I rush him needing to get this out of my system. My right hand draws back in a fist and I slam it as hard as I can making contact with his nose. I see the blood squirt which does nothing but fuel my desire to witness more coat his body. I let my left hand fly, and it connects with his ribs.

  Again, and again, I switch back and forth slamming my fist on his body wherever it lands. His hands are in a defensive position as he tries to block me from making contact. I’m needing him to fight back, I don’t want a punching bag, I want a quarrel. “Fight me back, you pussy!” I spit the saliva from my mouth, trying to make a statement.

  “I’m sorry,” he whimpers in agony. I’ve gotten in a few kidney shots, so I know he’s in pain.

  “You’re motherfuckin’ sorry! You’re a pathetic waste of space! Get up off the ground and fight me like a man. What’s the matter, you were all gung-ho on fighting a woman, but you can’t face me like a man?” I antagonize him further. “Did you lose your dick somewhere between grasping my woman against her will, and me taking that play toy away from you?”

  “Fuck you!” he hollers out, exhibiting the first sign that he has some balls buried in there somewhere.

  “You may be a man after all,” I sneer. I’m an asshole, sue me. I rush him, and he bounces up on his feet, taking a fighter’s stance. Who does this asshole think he is, Muhamad Ali? I’m not a professional fighter, I fight dirty. After I was shot and went through extensive physical therapy, I’ve learned to take my punches where I can and cause the most damage feasible. We end up charging each other, blows are exchanged, and I black out. I don’t recognize or realize the punches I’m receiving—my mind is blank.

  Lizzie

  I can hear a scuffle, grunts, and I recognize my man’s voice. I want to go back up and help him fight, but I know I’ll be more of a hindrance and distraction to him, than actually helping. I dig myself further into my hiding space and bury my head in my hands and cover my ears. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut so I am not tempted to look around my surroundings. It’s dark, damp, and I’m scared of what may be living down here. I hum a tune that I remember from my childhood that used to ease and calm my nerves.

  You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

  I sing the tune in my head repeatedly, trying to erase what’s happening above ground. The question keeps playing on repeat in my mind, ‘Is Justice safe? Has he been hurt?’ My worry is making it harder to stay here where I know I’m currently safe. The need to be by his side is overwhelming my good intentions. I get up from my spot, and walk towards the light. It’s the only visible thing down in this hole. My eyes squint the closer I get. The sun is blinding compared to the darkness I’ve been in.

  ‘You’ve got this, Lizzie,’ I state to myself in my mind. He would do it for me, what kind of Ol’ lady am I if I don’t at least check on him? This is what I keep voicing to my conscience every time it rears its ugly head and tells me to stay the fuck away and wait for Justice to come for me. I should’ve listened to the angel on my left shoulder and ignored the devil positioned on my right. He’s a convincing son-of-a-bitch.

  I must get too close to the window, because before I realize what is even happening, someone reaches in and pulls me out. A cloth goes over my nose and mouth causing my eyes to water and my nose to sting. My last thoughts before the lights go out is telling Justice how sorry I am for my impromptu need to put myself in a situation that wasn’t my place to do. ‘Please forgive me, Justice,’ I shout out in my head.

  When I come to, I panic with the darkness that envelops me. I slow my breathing, trying to get my brain to slow down and think. I have no injuries, other than this hammering headache. It’s dark, but I feel movement beneath me. Think…what’s the last thing you remember? It’s bleak, nothing standing out, zilch is coming to me scarce of feeling my heartbeat inside of my skull. It’s rapid and painful. I’m having a hard time catching my breath, but I cannot understand why…panic attack?

  What the hell did I get myself into? I close my eyeballs, I take a lung full of oxygen and add up to three, then let it out. I implement this deed until I feel my heartbeat condense in tempo and my head, although it still hurts, isn’t so manifested.

  My lids open wide when I realize… ‘Holy fuck, I’ve joined the Ol’ ladies kidnap club!’ Justice is going to go ballistic when he gathers his thoughts and takes notice of the fact that I’m not where I should be—waiting for him to grab me when he feels it’s safe to do so. I have a feeling that when he finds me and brings me home, my ass is going to be so raw I won’t be able to sit for a month.

  For some odd reason, I’m not scared. Well, at least not from my kidnappers. I know that if Justice and the Rage Ryders don’t find me quickly, my father and his organization will. I don’t know which one of them I wish to rescue me, t
hey both will be hard to deal with when it happens. I just wonder whose wrath is going to be worse? Justice will be pissed, but my father’s had more practice with punishing me and knows what to do to get me to break quickly.

  Damnit, I’ve just become a statistic. Huh, guess I really will fit in with the rest of the women. We’ll have a lot to talk about on the holidays…comparing kidnapping and rescue stories. Oh, and which of our Ol’ men are more creative with their punishments. I have a feeling that no one will be able to top mine, because he’s protective and possessive when it comes to me and my safety.

  I subconsciously rub my ass when I imagine already feeling his hand print there—and he hasn’t even found me yet. I come out of my inner deliberations when we hit a bumpy road and I’m bounced around like a rag doll. Jesus! I push my hands upwards and push on the trunk, trying to brace myself when it pops open suddenly. Not much, just a sliver, so I quickly act by placing one of my hands in the opening, preventing it from hitting another bump and closing.

  It smashes on my hand several times and I bite back the curses that want to be voiced out loud. My other hand has grabbed a bar on top to keep it from bumping too far up and taking a chance of the driver noticing it. I straighten my legs out, trying to secure myself since my hands are needed for other things.

  My head bounces up harshly and I slam it back down on the unforgiving trunk’s floor. I see white spots, making my already sore head more so. I end up biting my tongue and can taste the metallic flavor that floods my mouth. It makes me gag, but I work hard not to vomit from the amount I have accidently swallowed.

  My ears hone in on a conversation consisting of murmured voices and I comprehend that I have more than one captor. I utter a quick prayer to a God that I stopped believing in a lifetime ago that I can manage to get myself out of this circumstance on my own. Hopefully, that will help Justice and my father go easy on me. It may be wishful thinking, but that’s where I’m currently at.

  “I’ve gotta take a piss,” one of my captors says to the other one.

  “You can’t wait twenty fucking minutes?” I hear the other one ask.

  “Only if you want me to take a piss in your car.” This is what I need, they’ll be distracted, and I can make my escape.

  “No way, fucker, I’d be forcing you to lap that shit up with your tongue. Fine, I’ll pull over, I’ll drain the snake while you are.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “What about her? She’ll be out for at least another hour and she’s secured in the trunk. Let’s go before I change my mind.” I hear two car doors open and shut in succession. I place my ear near the opening of the trunk and listen to hear their footsteps, trying to decipher which direction they’re heading. It sounds as if it’s towards my head, so I quietly lift the lid, and crawl out. I don’t stand, I stay low to the ground. I gently close the trunk and hear the latch click in place. I duck walk the other direction until I get to the side of the vehicle. Seeing the woods all around me, no matter which way I look, I make the decision to sprint as fast as my legs will allow me, and keep running until I reach or find, some sort of civilization.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been doing this, but my legs are screaming out in protest. I am so out of shape, I make a mental note to join a gym and build my stamina. I never look back, I don’t stop for odd noises, I just keep moving forward.

  The more time that passes by, the darker it’s becoming, and I realize I’m lost. I don’t know if I’ve been going in circles, or if I’m actually making any progress. My body is shutting down and there’s no way I can keep moving. I find a large tree surrounded by brush. It has to be the best place I can rest. I’ll be out of sight, and I’ll be able to close my eyes…for a little bit. I know I can’t be here long, but I have to give my body the respite it’s in dire need of.

  Eighteen

  Justice

  When I finally finish whipping this asshole’s ass, I observe that he’s no longer breathing and there’s no movement from his chest. I won’t waste my time checking his pulse. Satisfied that I gave him the justice, - no pun intended, - he deserved, I go and squat down by the opening and call out Lizzie’s name.

  “Lizzie, baby? It’s safe to come out now.” It’s silent, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “Lizzie!”

  “Think she fell asleep down there? She could’ve had an adrenaline crash,” Julius says, walking up behind me.

  “Maybe, anyone got a flashlight so I can go down and check on her?”

  “I do,” Riptide states, squatting down next to me and removing the one he carries from his utility belt.

  “Thanks, brother,” I take it from him. I turn it on and place the end between my teeth. I take my hands and grab ahold of the seal. I use my legs and push myself inside. My hands land first in the dirt floor, I wrap my large hand around the base of the light and hold tight as I pull my legs through. I go through faster than anticipated and my knees slam into the unforgiving ground. I bite back all the fuck you’s that go through my head and instead I lift up. I can’t stand on my feet down here, I’m too tall, so instead I crawl around on my recently damaged and already swollen knees. Are they sore? Sure, but my brain is on a mission…find our woman.

  “Lizzie, baby, can you hear me?” I call out. Still, silence surrounds me, and an overwhelming sense of dread wraps around me. Squeezing my chest and stealing my breath. Something’s wrong.

  “Justice, brother, we’ve got a problem,” Kid shouts out.

  “What? I’m a little busy down here,” I scream back.

  “You’re not gonna find her down there, brother,” he hesitantly states.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I query.

  “That’s the thing, we checked the feeds and saw two men carry her out. She was unconscious, brother. We’ve got a direction to follow. The plates are being run and the two that survived the attack are down in the cells. If we can’t track her on our own, we’ll get the information from them.”

  “We’re not waiting!” I bellow. “Kid, while I’m out searching for her, I need someone in there interrogating those fuckers!” I demand as I crawl back out.

  “Fine, we’ll head out and Malibu…”

  He doesn’t get to finish that thought before Riptide interrupts him. “I’ll do it, it’s what you brought me in to do anyways. Go find your woman, while you’re searching, I’ll get everything I can from those pieces of shit.” He puts his hand out helping me stand.

  My body is hurting from fighting, and being cramped down there, so I thankfully accept his extended hand. I hear, and feel my bones creak and pop, as I ease my legs into a standing position. I’m getting too motherfucking old for this shit. “Let’s go,” I command, ignoring my achy body and rush for my bike. I don’t even check my helmet that was tossed to the ground, I ignore everything other than hitting the road and finding my Ol’ lady…my heart, my soul, my world.

  “Which way?” I request.

  “East,” Ryder responds.

  I ask no further questions as I start my bike and head out the open compound gates. I don’t look to see if anyone is following me, because I know that they are. I do not do a damn thing other than look for a vehicle that’s out of place, looks like it’s speeding to get away. I didn’t ask about the vehicle’s make or model, I just hauled ass…I just…just want, to find her.

  My missing link.

  My joy.

  My forever.

  Ryder and Kid pass me by and I follow since they do know the information I’m lacking. What was I thinking? I know better than to leave without all the pieces to the puzzle.

  I only had tunnel vision.

  Seek.

  Find.

  Destroy.

  Revenge overtaking my mind—pain. Slaughter. Death.

  As soon as Lizzie’s safe and sound in my arms, that’s exactly what I’ll be doling out.

  We did nothing but run in circles, never finding the sedan that Kid and Ryder were searching for. I’ve
never been so fearful of anything or for anyone in my entire lifetime…not even my mother when my father was teaching her a lesson. I stomp into the clubhouse, my current mission is to find out what Riptide was able to pull from those two pussies.

  “He’s in the interrogation room,” Ryder informs me as he catches up with me. We walk side-by-side down the hallway. When we hit the stairs that are behind a locked door, he pulls out the key and waves his hand in front of him indicating that I should go first. I don’t acknowledge this gesture, I just take it and jog down the stairs.

  I hear Riptide laughing and it pisses me off. This is not the time for games and jokes. When I hit the bottom of the stairs, I nearly throw up at what I see. “Is that…is that his dick?” Ryder asks me, his face suddenly a dark shade of green.

  “If you can’t handle it, get the fuck out! He has answers and we need to get my sister back.” Riptide announces, and if it was a better time, my feet might’ve been dancing at his declaration of my woman being like a sister to him.

  “I’m good. Continue,” Ryder pronounces, one hand waving air in his face while the other one is holding his throat. “Fuck that’s sick,” he says, turning around looking at the wall. I nearly join him, but I can’t seem to take my vision away from the man Riptide is currently torturing answers from. “He’s got some serious issues,” Ryder mutters under his breath. If he only knew, I’ve seen much worse than someone’s dick being cut off and shoved up their own ass. I don’t even want to imagine what his compadres may be doing to my woman.

  An hour, and many missing parts later…he tells us where they planned to take her. We all run out of the clubhouse, not caring about the man we left in tattered pieces below and haul ass to the location he indicated.